


The Times They Are a-Changin’

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [27]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Tumblr Prompt, Writing Prompt, microscopic amounts of angst, set between s3 and s4, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Based on the Tumblr prompt (by TashxTARDIS): "Could I prompt something? How about Fitzsimmons go shopping between season 3 and 4 and Fitz complains while Jemma makes him try on shirts. Or something where Mace finds out about Fitzsimmons but make it angsty coz idk i have a problem."I kinda tried to combine both suggestions :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TashxTARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashxTARDIS/gifts).



Jemma crosses her arms in front of her chest, staring intensely at the door of Fitz’s changing cubicle. “How’s this one?”

“I feel like it’s the exact same shirt as the last six I tried on,” Fitz’s voice echoes, slightly muffled and most definitely annoyed behind the closed door.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Ugh, Fitz. This one is a much lighter shade of blue than the previous one. And the one before that had a different collar, much pointier. The one before _that_ was a much shinier fabric. The one before _that_ was—”

“Yeah. Okay. I get it. Different shirts.”

“Well. Let me see then,” Jemma pleads.

She hears a slight groan from behind the door before it swings open and Fitz steps into the narrow hallway, looking at her with big blue, slightly exhausted puppy eyes.

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face and she stretches out her hand, pointing at Fitz and making a spinning motion with her index finger.

Fitz tilts his head to one side, slumping his shoulders slightly. “You just wanna see my bum again, don’t you?”

Jemma grins mischievously, shrugging ever so slightly. “What can I say. You have an exceptionally well-formed bum.”

Fitz rolls his eyes, groaning through his teeth, but obliging Jemma’s wishes and turning slowly until he’s completed a full rotation. He stretches his arms to the side, his eyebrows almost hiding in his hairline, staring at Jemma expectantly in anticipation of her verdict.

“Okay. Come over here and let’s step outside for a second.” Jemma waves him over to where she’s standing by the entrance of the changing area. “I want to see it where there’s better light. I think this one is definitely a contender.”

“Fine.” Fitz sighs, dropping his arms and dragging his feet across the floor as he follows Jemma out of the changing area and into the brightly-lit store.

“Hmmm.” Jemma eyes Fitz up and down, reaching for the collar of the shirt to readjust it. “Maybe you should try on the—”

She stops, gasping in surprise when her eyes catch sight of a tall, brown-haired man at the others end of the store. Quickly, Jemma grabs Fitz by his elbow, pulling him back into the changing area and into his cubicle. She closes the door, scrambling to climb on top of the little stool that’s standing in the corner on which Fitz had discarded his own shirt and the five others he’d tried on.

Fitz looks at her in complete confusion, his forehead wrinkled and his mouth slightly ajar. “What the—”

“Director Mace,” Jemma hushes.

Despite the closed door, Fitz does a double-take. “What?”

“Mace was out there,” Jemma hisses through gritted teeth.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Fitz pauses briefly, looking up and down Jemma, his eyebrows furrowed. “And why are you up on that stool, standing on shirts we haven’t even bought yet?”

“Sshhhh.” Jemma stretches both hands forward, palms down to remind Fitz to keep his voice down. “I’m standing up here so Mace doesn’t notice that there’s _two_ people in this cubicle should he come to the changing area. And it’s a store, Fitz. He’s probably looking for clothes.”

Fitz lifts his shoulders, looking at Jemma wide-eyed. “Now what?”

“We stay here until he’s gone.”

“And how will we know he’s gone? You got a dwarf in your purse or something?”

“Ugh.” Jemma groans, resting one hand against the wall of the changing room, trying to keep her balance on the small stool she’s still crouching on. “Well. We’ll just wait then and hope he doesn’t come in here.”

“ _In here???_ ” Fitz exclaims wide-eyed, pointing with both index fingers at the floor.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Not this cubicle. But the changing area.”

Fitz gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. “The saleswoman who so patiently has brought you shirt after shirt after shirt knows we’re here. She’ll notice we’re in here together.”

“Well, I highly doubt she’ll tell _Mace_ about it!”

“No. But she’ll think—” Fitz’s eyes nervously dart side to side and his voice is even quieter than before when he speaks again through gritted teeth. “She’ll think we’re having sex in here or something and call the mall cops and we’ll get kicked out and then Mace will _definitely_ see us!”

“Oh please. If they bothered to throw out everyone who has sex in the changing rooms, they’d never get any work done or would have any customers left.”

“Excuse me?” Fitz exclaims loudly. He closes his lips, deer-in-headlight look when he realizes his volume. “Excuse me?” he repeats, this time barely above a whisper.

“Fitz. _Everyone_ has sex in changing rooms.”

“Well. I haven’t.”

Jemma can’t stop her lips from pulling into a flirtatious, one-sided smile. “I’d be happy to remedy that.”

Fitz glares at her, unamused. “Currently not in the mood with our Director roaming this store.”

“Fine.” Jemma slumps her shoulders in slight disappointment.

“Rain check?” Fitz adds quietly, one corner of his mouth quirking up suggestively.

Jemma grins ear to ear, scrunching her nose in delight. “It’ll be my pleasure… and yours.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Agent Simmons, Agent Fitz, thank you for coming to my office.” Mace gestures at the two empty seats in front of his desk, smiling at them widely, that oh-so-familiar, plastered-on, smug smile.

“Of course, Director.” Jemma forces a polite smile as she takes her seat. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Well.” Mace opens the button of his suit jacket and sits down in his office chair, adjusting his seat, before leaning forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Something came to my attention and—”

Mace pauses, his eyes seemingly fixed on Fitz. Suddenly, one hand shoots slightly forward, pointing at Fitz. “Can I just say that that’s a beautiful shirt, Agent Fitz. I almost bought one just like that the other day.”

Jemma’s eyes widen in shock. She draws in a deep breath through her nose, hoping to somehow conceal her surprise as she stares nervously at Fitz, whose expression seems to have changed from polite to frustrated.

“Subtle. Very subtle.” Fitz mutters quietly under his breath, and Jemma swallows, her hand intuitively reaching for her stomach, trying to make the slight nausea disappear.

Mace furrows his brows. “Excuse me, Agent Fitz?”

“The shirt.” Fitz’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he gestures at his new, blue button-up. He scoffs, shaking his head. “How ‘bout you stop beating around the bush.”

“The bush?” Mace’s eyes dart back and forth between Jemma and Fitz in what appears to be genuine confusion, which Fitz however does not seem to notice.

Fitz shrugs. “Fine. Alright. Yes. So you know we’re dating.”

“Fitz,” Jemma exclaims, staring at him, her mouth hanging slightly open, pleading with her eyes to not say anything more.

“Well, Agent—” Mace tries to interject.

But Fitz seems to ignore the Director, looking instead straight back at Jemma, shaking his head in disagreement. “No. Jemma. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of sneaking around because some bloody regulation is trying to tell people that they can’t fall in love with each other.”

His head spins around, fixing his eyes on Mace. “That’s _not_ how love works. Sometimes it just happens and—”

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaims loudly at the same time that Mace mumbles a quiet “Agent Fitz.”

But Fitz seems to be on a roll, pushing himself up to standing and pointing angrily at the Director. “But fine, Director Mace, if you insist on keeping to every bloody regulation down to a bloody _t_ no matter how bloody stupid it is, then consider this my resignation, ‘cause if you make me choose between Jemma and S.H.I.E.L.D. I will _always_ choose her.”

“Agent Fitz,” Mace says a bit more firmly this time, but now it is on Jemma to speak over the Director to try and talk some sense into her boyfriend.

She stands up herself, placing her hands on her hips. “Fitz, no! You’re not going to resign. If anything, I should—”

“Agent Simmons.”

Fitz shakes his head. “No. You’re not resigning. You’re far more valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D. than I am and—”

“Agent Fitz.”

“Oh please.” Jemma scrunches her face in disbelief. “S.H.I.E.L.D. did perfectly fine while I was undercover at Hydra and during the six months I was on Maveth.”

“Agent Simmons.”

Fitz gestures over the shoulder with his thumb, leaning slightly forward, his face only inches away from hers now. “Yeah, and they did perfectly fine when I was recovering from my brain injury _or_ when I took off on missions by myself to try and figure out the monolith.”

“Agent Fitz.”

“You’re not resigning,” Jemma exclaims.

“Well, neither are you,” Fitz yells, throwing one hand to the side.

“ _Agents Fitzsimmons!_ ” Mace’s voice booms through the room.

They both turn to face Mace, staring at him wide-eyed where he’s standing behind his desk.

Mace crosses his hands in front of his chest palms-forward, drawing a half circle into the air. “No one is resigning. S.H.I.E.L.D. can’t afford to lose either of you and Agent Coulson made me aware of your romantic relationship before I even took on this position. _And_ made it clear that I should turn a blind eye to it and ignore Section 17. In fact, he advised me to ignore Section 17 altogether in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current state since we can’t really afford to lose _any_ agents.”

“Oh,” Jemma and Fitz mumble in unison.

“Yes.” Mace lets himself drop back into his chair as if the single word had exhausted him enough not to be able to stand anymore.

“Then… then why did you call us in today?” Fitz asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We’re running out of bunks,” Mace says matter-of-factly.

“Pardon?” Slowly, Jemma sits back down on her chair.

“Our efforts to recruit new agents have recently been quite fruitful.” Mace gestures towards the corridor. “But this base has limited space for accommodating these new recruits.”

“So?” Jemma shrugs.

“We’re scientists, not architects,” Fitz mutters, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Mace purses his lips. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in cohabitating.”

Jemma stares at the Director in disbelief. “Co-?”

“-habitating?” Fitz completes the word, his eyes fixed on the tall man on the other side of the desk.

Mace bops his head ever so slightly. “Yes. Since we’re not strictly enforcing Section 17, I’ve devised the idea of offering agents who are in committed relationships to submit a formal request for cohabitation.”

“Co-?” Jemma’s eyes briefly dart in Fitz’s direction, who turns his head just as quickly to look at her.

“-habitation?”

“Yes,” Mace confirms.

“As in—?” Fitz looks back and forth between Mace and Jemma.

“—living together?” Jemma mimics Fitz’s actions before staring at the Director wide-eyed.

Mace shrugs ever so slightly, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. “That’s generally how this word is used, yes.”

“Oh,” both Fitz and Jemma mutter quietly and Jemma can feel the corners of her mouth ticking up just a bit.

“Well.” Mace slaps his palms on his desk energetically. “I just thought, I’d mention the idea to you.” He opens a thin folder in front of him, pulling out a sheet of paper and sliding it across the table towards Fitzsimmons. “Here’s the form you would need to fill out and submit directly to me. Needless to say, you can already consider it approved should you decide to apply.”

Fitz’s mouth gapes slightly ajar and a barely audible, surprised “Huh” escapes his lips.

Jemma’s mind on the other hand finally seems to have caught up with the situation. She clears her throat, forcing her lips into another polite smile, as she stands up, dragging Fitz up to standing by his elbow and grabbing the sheet of paper, “Yes. Well. Alright. Thank you _very_ much, Director.”

Gently, Jemma elbows Fitz, who straightens up, looking nervously and still somewhat dumbfounded at Jemma for a moment, before extending his hand towards Mace. “Yes. Thank you, Director.”

Mace takes Fitz’s hand, shaking it firmly. “You’re more than welcome.”

The Director lets go of Fitz’s hand, pointing at him instead. “And again: beautiful shirt. I might have to go back to that store and buy it for myself.”

Fitz’s eyes widen in surprise and he seems to be once again frozen to the spot.

Jemma somehow manages to maintain her smile while gently pushing Fitz towards the exit. “Thank you _very_ much, Director. We… we’ll be in touch.”


End file.
